Stormborn
by ShanMah
Summary: [OS] During the biggest summer storm Westeros has ever seen, a wish is granted, a princess is born, a promise is made, and a queen's days end.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones or any of its characters. This is a non-profit, fan-made work. Everything rightfully belongs to GRRM.

 **Rating:** M for safety

 **Summary:** During the biggest summer storm Westeros has ever seen, a wish is granted, a princess is born, a promise is made, and a queen's days end.

 **Context:** This can be considered a sequel to my older oneshot, "Third of his Name", although both oneshots can easily be read independently.

 **Stormborn**

Queen Rhaella found herself crying for pain as the maester and servants fussed around the bed. The birthing room was silent, if not for her cries of agony and the heavy rain whipping the windows. Rhaella had never seen such a heavy storm, and although she had been with child many times, and given birth more often than her two sons would indicate, she had never experienced such a difficult birth. She had been labouring for longer than any of her previous births, defying the common saying that each birth was easier than the one before.

There was a strike of lightening and a loud thunderclap, covering her pained voice for a short moment.

 _Be a girl,_ she secretly wished as she mustered all her strength and pushed at the maester's command, _Please be a sweet, comely girl - be Viserys' queen_. Again, Maester Niclas urged her to push, and the Targaryen queen dug deeper to find strength and courage to give another push. A servant girl was standing by the bed and holding her hand, compassion visible in her grey eyes, and the exhausted woman squeezed the hand tight, pushing as hard as she could once more.

"Yes," the maester said, "Once more, Your Grace, just once more—"

Another hit of thunder, incredibly loud, and Rhaella did as the maester had asked, and then the room became painfully, deafeningly silent, until, until...

A baby's strident cries echoed around the birthing room. Anxious, Rhaella glanced up at the maester, who was now examining and cleaning the infant.

"It's a girl, Your Grace - my queen has given birth to a princess."

The queen let go a sigh of immense relief as she allowed her head to fall back in the pillows.

"Please," she weakly said as she tried to sit up in the bed, "Please, I want to see her... I want to hold my daughter, Maester Niclas, please—"

Two of the servants who were present helped her as she struggled to sit up, weakened by her difficult labour, and the old maester obediently approached and carefully handed her the newborn child.

The baby was small, but she was strong and robust, like Viserys had been, with the thinnest white-blond hair on her head, and as she held her daughter in her arms for the first time, the queen was beaming. The girl would grow to have all the Valyrian elegant features, she would be a true Targaryen, beautiful beyond words, Rhaella could see it already.

She could not even hear the violent storm anymore: everything around her was fuzzy, except for the infant against her chest. She kissed her soft, warm forehead, tears rolling down her pale cheeks. No highborn woman had ever been so happy to birth a girl, of that she was sure, but if she would be Viserys' queen, then perhaps it was worth the horrors endured at her brother husband's hands, perhaps it was worth such a painful birth, perhaps they would one day reclaim the Iron Throne and rule over Westeros together, perhaps...

It was as if she had snapped out of a bubble: she became suddenly aware of how the maester and servants were moving, how agitated they seemed, and the worry on the old man's face finally dawned on her. She saw the servants carrying away bloody sheets upon bloody sheets, and of all the times she had given birth, living or stillbirth, she had never seen _so much blood._ The baby in her arms was the only thing that felt warm anymore: the rest of her body felt so cold to her, almost like it was numb. Her violet eyes met with the maester's eyes, and she knew, without him speaking a word, why everyone was so anxious around her, why there was so much blood, why she felt so cold, why both her mind and body felt progressively number as time passed...

This birth would be her last - and giving birth to her only daughter would be the last thing she ever did. She had been spared for so many births and miscarriages that it felt almost as though she had cheated fate for years. In the eyes of many, she ought to feel blessed that she had been able to carry this pregnancy to term and give birth to a healthy child, but to think that she was to leave the world now, after all that her family had endured, broke her heart. Tears - not of joy, this time, but of despair - came up her lilac eyes, and she closed them briefly.

"Viserys," she begged, "I want to see my son one last time, please..."

"At once, Your Grace," the servant who had held her hand through the birth said before rushing out.

"Get these out of sight," Maester Niclas ordered to the other servants, pointing towards the bloodied sheets, "The young king does not need to see this."

The servants were quick to obey, and fresh, clean sheets were thrown on the bed and over Rhaella's lower half, so that the blood on her nightgown and the mattress could not be seen, either. The girl with grey eyes came back, holding Viserys' hand. The boy's eyes were still sleepy, yet he obediently approached his mother's bed as she motioned him forward.

"Viserys," Rhaella softly said, placing a gentle hand on his cheek, "I want you to meet your sister Daenerys."

Viserys glanced up at the baby girl in his mother's arms. Timidly, hesitantly, he raised up a hand to touch his sister's tiny, pink hand.

"You must always protect her," the queen said, "You must love and cherish her... you will be her world, and she will be yours. The blood of the dragon flows in your veins, the both of you... Viserys, you must always remember—always remember how wronged we have been... in Robert's rebellion—"

"Mother?" Viserys asked, worry in his voice.

The queen paid him no mind - in fact, he was not sure she had heard him at all - and went on:

"The Usurper killed your brother on the Trident—Jaime Lannister murdered your father—Tywin Lannister turned his back on our family—his soldiers, what they did to Elia, and to Rhaenys and Aegon—you can never allow yourself to forget—and you must... you must teach your sister—what we are, what was done to us... where you are from—you remember the dragons your father used to show you, the kings I taught you—?"

"Yes," the young boy proudly replied, "All of them."

"Good," the queen replied, briefly closing her eyes, "She must learn, too, and she will need you to show her..."

"But, Mother, why won't you teach her the way you taught me?"

"Because I... because the gods have decided that it is time for me to leave, Viserys."

She saw his light violet eyes fill with tears, and she managed to form a smile on her lips.

"Do not weep for me," she told him, "As I am to be reunited with our family. My pain is over, and now you have to be strong. For you, for Daenerys, for our house."

He felt her hand twitch on his cheek.

"Do you promise?"

"Yes, Mother, I promise."

She opened her free arm, the one who was not holding her daughter, and Viserys climbed on the bed to take refuge in his mother's loving embrace one last time.

"I am so sorry," she whispered to his ear, "I should not leave you with such a heavy burden so soon... but if the gods have seem fit to make it so, they must know just how strong you are."

The queen leaned in to kiss his forehead softly, and when she closed her eyes, Viserys knew she would not open them again. The baby began crying as Rhaella's arm became limp, no longer supporting her, and Viserys, faster than the maester and any servant, picked her up and held her. Viserys had never held a baby, and he tried his best to hold Daenerys the way his mother had been holding her, but the infant cried at the top of her lungs until Maester Niclas showed him how to place his arms around her and his hand behind her head to support it, so that she would be both comfortable and safe.

The newborn was heavy for his small arms, but even when a servant approached to take her, he would not let go of her, holding her close against his chest. The son wanted to mourn for his mother, yet the brother did not want to show weakness, even now. Not after he had promised his mother that he would always be strong for her sister.

"You and I are all that remains," he whispered in High Valyrian, echoing the words his mother had told him before crowning him, "But we will take back our kingdom, and rebuild it. Together - with fire and blood."

 **End words:** And that's (literally) all she wrote. I wanted yet another slice of child Viserys, another moment who forged his character. If you enjoyed it (or didn't!), please review, feedbacks mean the world!


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